


Do You Remember?

by kueble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Modern Era, Vampire Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28862481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kueble/pseuds/kueble
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier reflect on their centuries-long relationship.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 102





	Do You Remember?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt: I saw u asking for prompts. How would u feel about maybe a vampire Jaskier in a modern setting? Not like a sexy vampire but more like a quirky nerdy one? Just ranting about random history stuff in his super old clothing that he's careful about because he can't replace it. Perhaps with his Witcher bf looking on endearingly as he talks? Or maybe ranting with him?? Sorry this is kind of over detailed, pls just pick and choose the bits u like lol

The house is quiet when Geralt enters, the slamming door echoing in the darkness. He arms the security system and leans his swords by the door. He leaves his guns - one loaded with hollow-point bullets and the other handmade silver ones - in his holster. The gun safe is in his armory, but they’ll most likely end up next to his bed anyway. There’s next to no chance of anyone breaking into their house, but old habits die hard. The only time he’s completely unarmed is when he’s in the shower or taking care of his husband.

Speaking of, the house shouldn't be this quiet. Jaskier never sleeps while he’s out on a hunt, always paces or finds another activity to distract himself even though they’ve been going through the motions for centuries. He toes off his boots before heading down the hallway, careful to avoid another lecture about keeping their space clean. They’ve been in this home for a few decades now, and it seems to be Jaskier’s favorite so far. A witcher and a higher vampire holed up in the countryside, who would have thought? The closest neighbor is miles away, so there’s no need for awkward explanations as to why they both look so young. It’s pretty easy to avoid people in general since they’re both mostly nocturnal. Jaskier hasn’t been in the public eye much this lifetime, taking a break from his singing career to focus on his writing. 

He finds Jaskier curled up on the window seat in his office. It overlooks their backyard and the edge of the forest, and it's probably his favorite spot in the whole house. The moon is nearly full tonight, and Jaskier is framed in a gentle glow, looking almost ethereal as he turns to smile at Geralt. He’s wearing one of his old doublets, the threadbare fabric long past its glory days. It’s a faded yellow and if Geralt remembers correctly, there will be delicate flowers embroidered around the collar once he gets close enough to see them.

He wanders over and tries to climb into Jaskier’s lap, but he’s shoved away with a laugh.

“No, you beast!” Jaskier gapes at him, “You’ll ruin my outfit. You know we have to be careful with these. I lost one just last year.” He trails off with a sigh and Geralt perches on the edge of the window seat before tentatively reaching out to cup the back of Jaskier’s neck, rubbing his thumb gently over the soft skin below his ear.

“I don’t see why you can’t replace them,” Geralt says quietly. He keeps caressing Jaskier, hoping it’s reassuring. “You know we could both live on interest and your royalties until the end of time. You could do it right, have them tailor-made just how you remember them.” Jaskier sighs again before closing his eyes, but he leans into Geralt’s touch, so he must be doing something right. He’s never been the best at dealing with Jaskier’s moods. Usually getting him to laugh is the best way to push through them. He’ll bide his time, find the right moment and make him smile again. He always does.

“It’s not the same,” Jaskier mumbles, pausing for a long moment before adding, “I was wearing this one the first time we kissed. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do. You had on that ridiculous flower crown those village girls wove you. I spent years ignoring how much you made me _want_ but that image of you grinning up at me with buttercups in your hair was too much. I realized I’d never escape it...that I didn’t even want to anymore,” Geralt admits, smiling at the memory. As if he’d forget something like that. Sometimes his bard - Musician? Poet? Young adult novelist? - forgets he’s not the only sentimental one in this relationship.

Jaskier smiles at him as brightly as the sun and Geralt can’t help grinning back at him.

\---

Jaskier knows he’s being ridiculously maudlin, even for him. But what’s the point of being a vampire if you can’t work the aesthetic and brood in a dark corner every so often? Granted the moon is stunning tonight and his window seat covered in plush pillows is hardly a corner, but the sentiment is the same.

So when Geralt perfectly describes their first kiss to him, he can’t help beaming at him. His witcher is so fucking _soft_ sometimes that it hurts in all the best ways. He remembers that day affectionately, which is why he’s so particular about this doublet. He knows it’s just an item and not the memory itself, but sometimes he just needs to dress up and live in a past moment for a bit. He’s got both artistry and the devil woven in his cursed soul and he embraces it.

“I’m glad I was so charming that you couldn’t resist me forever,” Jaskier tells him.

“Charming is one word for it,” Geralt quips back, ducking his head as he smirks.

“Oi! You are so thoroughly charmed! Don’t even try to lie to me,” Jaskier huffs playfully at him. “I know the clothing doesn’t make the man and all of that, but I just...sometimes I miss the early days, you know? When it was just us against the world without two coins to rub together. Don’t get me wrong, I adore the lives we’ve made for ourselves, wouldn't give them up for anything, but sometimes I miss just cuddling up against you in the middle of the woods, belly full from whatever you managed to catch us for dinner. Oh just ignore me. I’m getting lost in my head again.” He waves him off, not able to put into words why his stupid doublet is so important to him.

“I will not ignore you. I’m the broody one,” Geralt points out. “I miss them too some days, all the different lives we’ve lived...all the people we’ve been. Well, all the people you’ve been. I’ve never been anything but a simple witcher with a feisty husband.”

“And I wouldn’t change that for anything,” Jaskier tells him softly. “What other versions of me do you think fondly of? I think I miss the Victorian era most. So much lace. So many frills. Fashion used to be so much softer. Don’t get me wrong, I love how my ass looks in skinny jeans, but there’s no flair to it.”

“The way you dress now is sinful,” Geralt snorts out, “Everything is too tight, though. At least in these I could get a hand down the front of them without cutting off my circulation.” He gestures at Jaskier’s trousers, looking adorably put out.

“I like to think I’ve been sinful my entire life,” Jaskier counters. “But don’t avoid the question. We’re catering to my vanity here. What do you miss?”

“I think I miss eighties you most,” Geralt admits with a wistful look, “You had such great hair. Murder of crows, was it?”

“Murder of?” Jaskier pauses to think that one through and then collapses against Geralt in a fit of giggles. When he’s finally able to speak, he cries out, “Seagulls! Flock of Seagulls, you absolute goon.” Geralt just shrugs, and Jaskier is half convinced he erred on purpose, just to make him smile again. And then he just _has_ to kiss him, because his love is so fucking sweet that sometimes he can’t handle it. 

Geralt sighs into the kiss, going pliant under Jaskier’s mouth. He tangles his fingers in the front of the doublet, tugging Jaskier closer like he used to in lifetimes before. It’s enough to get the borrowed blood in his veins buzzing, and Jaskier lets his fangs retract a bit, nipping at Geralt’s mouth as the kiss. He bites harder, just rough enough to draw a drop or two, and Geralt groans as Jaskier chases the copper taste deeper into his mouth.

They’re both half-hard by the time they finish, but it’s a languid heat, not something Jaskier needs to rush through right now. They have all night - fuck they have centuries to go still - and he plans on dragging Geralt to their shared bed and teasing him for hours; wants to see him broken and on edge before he builds him back up, makes him whole again. They sit there, just leaning on each other for a few moments before Geralt’s deep voice ends the comfortable silence.

“And what about me? Have you enjoyed all my different looks?” Geralt asks with a sly grin.

“Ah yes, _Black Through the Ages: a Monochromatic Look at Fashion History <.i>,” Jaskier snorts with a wave of his hands. He curls into Geralt, loving how well they still fit together, even after all these years. And as Geralt chuckles deeply and nuzzles into his shoulder, he hopes their next adventure is as wonderful as all the previous have been._

**Author's Note:**

> Come play with me on [Tumblr](https://kueble.tumblr.com).


End file.
